Good morrow, Inquisition.

( Herian always sounds even and controlled. It's her own personal cliche, on par with "it was a dark and stormy night." Now, however, it takes on a new dimension, a suggestion of flatness that could be tiredness, or could be... something else. )

I bring good tidings. Though there were those who felt the loss of the Hightown forest keenly, the fire cleared the way for work to begin on the memorial, the progress of which had been stymied for some time. Working with a committee of Kirkwallers, the families of the lost and survivors, and members of the Chantry, the Chantry Relations project and the Inquisition has aided with the design and construction of the memorial gardens. The gardens were designed as a place of reflection and to commemorate all those who lost their lives in the Chantry explosion of the thirty-seventh year of the Dragon Age, and its aftermath. However... as a place of peace for all those who have lost people and who seek succour, all are welcome.

It would be remiss to speak of the memorial gardens without acknowledging, in particular, the work of Siuona and Nahariel of Clan Dahlasanor. For all that feeling was much divided on it, the current growth and fertility of the gardens would have been impossible without the efforts and Sina and those who aided her in raising the forest. It was their shared vision of a peaceful place for the coming together of people in remembrance that allowed Andraste's Grove to come into being, and Narahiel's work that gave us the statue that has become an icon for so many. Though the fire destroyed much, all that survived it - the trees, the flowers, the ground of that grove as well as the statue of Andraste - are sacred. It has become a place of peace, and of pilgrimage. Knowing all the injuries that the Chantry has inflicted in the past, it seems... it seems all the more fitting that a place of healing and reconciliation be the result of Dalish idealism.

( Her own feelings on the Dalish are not warm, or perhaps much better than frosty, but her sentiment is genuine.

There follows a bit of a pause. )

I hope that... even with all the adversity that faces us now, new challenges arising alongside the old, that when it comes to protecting this world and standing against Corypheus, we can do so together. That... that animosity might be saved for those who stand as a threat to us all, and that breaches between us, allies even when it be... through circumstance rather than choice, might be settled peacefully whenever possible.

Easy words to say, I know, and I cannot claim that I have stood by that ideal anywhere near so well as I ought in times past. I wish to do better, on that count. If you should wish to find me, I am most often in the Chantry Relations office. Doubtless there is much to discuss, in light of recent developments and proposals.

This place reminds me of Drakenborg. [ Iorveth’s voice comes from the sending crystals, almost up-beat, and if you’ve spoken to Iorveth for all of five seconds before, you should know that’s Not Quite Right. But he seems casual and chilled out enough, so all well. ] It was a castle once, under a different name and a different people, then a fortress, likely named by nobles that wouldn't know a dragon if it bit them on the ass, then it endured as a shelter through two gruesome wars. Then, finally, a death camp.

[ yeah, so maybe not a cheerful talk, but his tone is even and relaxed enough. Still, you might start to guess that he isn’t complimenting the Gallows here. He goes on like it’s idle chit-chat, just swapping cute stories. ] ‘Subversive elements’, they’d say, but it was mostly Scoia’tael, and any other elves or nonhumans that breathed the wrong way at the wrong time.

[ The crunch of something that’s probably an apple sounds, and it’s followed by a stuttered laugh, muffled slightly because he’s definitely talking with his mouth full. ] Kind of a funny place, really. At night, you’d hear the prisoners in the death cell singing ‘The Hymn of the Joyful’, and they'd pick it up, all through the rest of the dungeon. You could almost bloody dance to it, if you weren’t chained to the walls, starved, half your bones broken and half your blood missing. We sung it in our own tongue, of course, but translated, it's... [ A pause, Iorveth’s voice trailing off pensively while he’s thinking of the best way to translate it to Common. He doesn’t sing it, because no one wants to hear his singing voice, it belongs in a freaking dungeon. Rather, he recites it like a poem: ]

"The hanged people dance on the ropes, rhythmically writhing in spasms. Sing your song with melancholic emotion, to amuse the joyful. Each of the dead remember, when their feet left the stool, and their eyes popped out of their sockets. Dance on the hanging ropes, happily writhe in spasms. And the wind carries their songs, the ringing chorus all around." [ It really doesn’t sound that joyful when it's not being sung. Or when one actually know what the words mean. ]

Good song, better with the tune to it. Too bad the man who wrote it was set aflame and quartered. Would’ve made a great bard. [ A short, sigh, lamenting opportunities lost. That’s rough, buddy. Humming, he takes a short pause, before adding on like an afterthought - ] Makes me wonder if your alienages here have any ditties like it.

[ Is he suggesting the alienages are glorified death camps? Maaaybe. Let’s talk morbid songs, friends. Or whatever, he's not picky, just shooting the shit, but Iorveth is allergic to small talk, so you end up with crap like this. If you happen to be looking for him, he’ll be sat or crouched up on top of a building somewhere, probably, or on a wall, munching at some fruit and peering over the courtyard, looking like an overgrown monkey-child. ]

Good day, Inquisition.

This is Knight Enchanter Herian Amsel. I am working with Knight Enchanter Voss during this sickness to ensure proper guard rotation is fulfilled and that are quarantine can be enforced, if necessary. Due to any Templars and rifters making contribution to guard duty being currently incapacitated, volunteers would be gladly received.

We are all well aware of the Gallow’s history, and with that in mind we’d particularly like to encourage mages to contribute to guard duty, in the hopes this will set minds better at ease. I am also eager to ensure that, if there are the numbers for it, we try to make sure that the guard is dominated by no particular fraternity - again, in the hopes of offering some peace of mind to all the mages here present.

If you wish to volunteer for the guard roster, please respond with your name, combat skills and experience. If you are a mage, responding with your chosen fraternity if you have one would be greatly appreciated. Mages are by no means demanded to declare this information if you consider it a matter of privacy, but it may then be that we do not add you to the present roster.

Less immediately pressing, but any insight into combat skills and experience levels amongst mages granted to us will allow Knight Enchanter Voss and I to better prepare for commencing combat and defence training for mages, so whatever information you can offer us would be greatly appreciated.

I have also recently taken leadership of the Chantry Relations project, if there should be any with pressing need to discuss related matters, or if there is any further assistance I can offer. Project members, I will look to speaking with you all regarding matters once our present situation is better in hand.

( The voice that speaks first is soft, controlled, polite. The Herian standard, basically. She could be talking about the necessity of carefully filing paperwork, rather than a birthday party. )

Inquisition, a good many of you are familiar with Enchanter Ceallach. At her behest, ( that sounds just faintly dry, ) I would like to invite you to a celebration of her birthday. Her birthday is on the thirtieth of this month, and the party on the final eve of this year. You are all most welcome.

( :| so welcome )

And many of you are also familiar with Knight-Enchanter Amsel. ( And this voice is much more bright, almost giggling as she obviously leans in over a certain someone’s shoulder. ) Equally, at my behest, I would like to invite you to a celebration of our birthdays. Her birthday is on the second of the first month in our new year, so this party is as much for me as it is for my little sister.

( Said filled to the brim with love and sunshine.

However, gentle listener, if you felt that disgusted noises were trademarked to Nevarrans, how wrong you were. The problem is that the knightly sort are, by Herian’s standards, far too dignified to make disgusted noises, so there is just a period of intense, suffering silence, before her dignity is nevertheless compromised by: )

It’s only four days. ( Four days that she will never escape. Four days that weigh upon her very soul. ) My haggard, elderly companion also cheats at hide and seek.

( Justice. Is this the most absurd Herian has ever been in public? Probably. There’s a faintly mutinous air to it. Mutinous severity. )

My sweet, but naive, baby sister is only upset because she always found first. By everyone. Even the goats in the alienage could find her hiding spots.

( What is even happening anymore? Is this the same flower-crown weaving Saoirse that sings to birds? You can even imagine her pulling on Herian’s cheek as she speaks which is accurate because she absolutely is and with a smile.

And Herian is having to use every inch of her control not to get Saoirse in a headlock. That would be unseemly, and excessive, and yet…. so tempting. )

The celebration, ( “celebration” sounding like a torturous word to speak aloud, which possibly has something to do with Saoirse pulling at her face, even as she tries to regain her dignity, ) will be in the Hanged Man. Please do not hesitate to advise us of any questions you might have, and please remember to exercise due caution, that you are not nursing painful headaches at the Firstday Feast.

( A moment of pause and then… there she goes. She’s going to try and get Saoirse in a headlock anyway, now with the element of surprise.

And speaking of surprise that yelp, and some word muffled in that funny language they speak, is full of surprise. It might be a moment before either respond. )

Latha math, Inquisition. This is Saoirse Ceallach.

At the end of this coming week there is a family from Kirkwall's alienage that will be leaving the city to make home in Starkhaven. I will work with them to help make the transition go as smoothly as possible but there is always room for help while we are out in the road or those that simply wish to go along for the ride. After all, I know there are many of us here now that come from Starkhaven who may wish to visit their home as well.

If you wish to join us on this venture, please let me know and I will make the proper arrangements necessary. You may let me know through here, on our crystals, or in person — I spend much of my time within the alienage or in the offices allotted to the Chantry Relations group.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Inquisition, hello.

[ It's a friendly-enough voice, sort of husky without being unusually low, the common tongue spoken with the generic pronunciation favored by Circle tutors and just a hint of a muddled accent that's difficult to place beyond Northern. ]

My name is Nell, and I've only recently joined your ranks here in Kirkwall. I'd heard that the Inquisition's mages governed themselves through some sort of council, but I've yet to see hide or hair of it here. Was that only a rumor? I've heard quite a lot of rumors about the Inquisition's mages, it's not always easy to pick out the truth.

I suppose my real question is what is the status of mages here, exactly? And Templars, since I've see some about already? I'm eager to help the Inquisition in its fight, but I do like to know what I'm getting myself into.

Hey guys! Kaisa here. So, uh. Remember how we all agreed on how we ought to work on getting that Chantry memorial garden back up and running? Well, I'm there right now, and we've got a pretty big problem here.

[ A pause, and then helpfully: ]

It's not my fault.

[ Just putting that out there. ]

The entire area where the garden used to be is a forest. Like. A real, honest-to-Andraste forest. It's...actually really pretty? Everything is flowering and it smells really nice. But still. There's a forest here. Right in the middle of Hightown and everything.

I guess it wouldn't be a huge issue, aside from maybe squirrels attacking random nobles--that'd actually be pretty funny--but forests don't just sprout up. I may be a city-slicker, but I can tell you that much. So I poked around, and I believe I found evidence of blood magic being involved.

[ There was a bunch of blood in the middle of a magically created forest. Kaisa does, admittedly, share her religion's intolerant view of blood magic (Warden bullshit aside, that's different), but she's pretty sure that's a solid cause for suspicion. ]

I don't know why someone would use blood magic to grow a forest, but they used blood magic on holy ground--is it still holy ground? I'm not sure about that, but still. You guys get why this might be more of an issue than a few extra trees, right?

Oh, and don't worry, I destroyed the evidence of the blood magic. Figured that's the last thing people around here need.

[ Well, she is a Warden. Suppression of sketchy facts is their MO. ]

Hello Inquisition!

[Here is your cheerful sunshine Warden, everyone.]

I am wondering if I could perhaps borrow some hands, and eyes, and eager minds to help me go through the basements of the Kirkwall Library? There is a chance that we might be able to get our hands on some ancient Tevinter texts, and that would help our research of Corypheus immensely. I'm looking for those who don't mind spending a few afternoons going through volumes of history, of magic and of other topics to perhaps find some hidden gems.

I can't offer much money, I'm sorry, for those looking for coin but! I will buy all the drinks at the Hanged Man later on!

So who is interested?

[ There's so much space in the Gallows that there's no logical reason for everyone not to have their own room, especially grown men who are not afraid of the dark and have in fact killed thousands of the things that make the dark scary, and yet

it's sooooo quiiiiiiet. ]

Someone tell the rest of us a bedtime story.

[ Or it was quiet. Now it's not. Everyone is welcome. ]

[There's an intermittent tapping noise, as if Simon is trying to ascertain whether the crystal is working. He still doesn't trust this newfangled magitech. Eventually, he just goes for it.]

...yes, hello. [Awesome start, buddy.] For anyone who's interested, or was a part of it, I recall seeing some advertisements around Skyhold for...a choir, I guess it was. A secular choir, more of a club really. The, uh... [Cough.] "Sing-quisition."

Is that still on? It sounded like a nice idea, and if there isn't a new meeting place for it here in Kirkwall, I was thinking we ought to find one.

I wouldn't be averse to thinking up a new name, either, if none of the original members are coming back, but one thing at a time.